


Triumph

by mageprinceloki, snowquill



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mageprinceloki/pseuds/mageprinceloki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowquill/pseuds/snowquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is from an RP thread on Tumblr. AO3 user Snowquill and I attempted our own take on the Thor & Loki: Blood Brothers graphic novel, so that's the basic summary. (Loki takes Asgard, Thor is his prisoner, he has to figure out what to do with him and attempt to work out the complex nature of their relationship in the process.)</p><p>Contains UST, violence, torture (nothing too graphic, imo, but that's subjective), and a great deal of angst and Thor-Loki feels of all sorts. I also consider it some of my best writing and feel privileged to have been able to work with her on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   Winning had come as a surprise to him. Not that Loki had ever lacked for confidence, but he was so long accustomed to failure that he hardly knew how to proceed when it never came. 

   Fortunately, he adapted quickly.

   Of course, his victory wasn’t yet   _fully_   complete, he remembered with a sudden pang of irritation. There was still a nagging, stubborn little thorn in his side. Even with the All-Father in exile and Frigga safely tucked away, the former prince and would-be king, the precious, golden heir to the throne—he remained in the palace. This was strictly so that Loki could keep a close watch on his hostage of course, and to remind the people that   _all_   things were now under his power. Their beloved thunder god was little more than a war trophy to him, and that was a valuable example to set.

   Beneath all those reasons, though, lay a more personal one: He wanted to be witness to the very  _second_   when Thor Odinson finally accepted his rule. When he bowed and swore allegiance to the new monarch of Asgard in front of everyone present. Loki wouldn’t dare risk missing such a moment after so many years of waiting, but his patience was beginning to wear thin as the days dragged on and no progress was made.

   As was so often the case in these moments, he found himself wanting to see—or more accurately, to gloat over—his prize. Normally he’d have taken a trip down to the cell, which wasn’t a dungeon by any means, but certainly not the lavish  accommodations  a prince of the realm was used to. Tonight though, he wanted something more private.

                                **  **  **  **  **  **  **  **  **

   In the antechamber just off from his bedroom, the trickster sat sprawled on an  elaborately  carved wooden chair. It wasn’t a throne, but it may as well have been, especially with his slender frame draped with such careless and perfect ease across it. He’d prepared for bed but hadn’t undressed yet, and the close-fitting black tunic with intricately embroidered, stylized green serpents knotting and twisting along the collar, cuffs, and waist  suited him and he knew it: The black against his pale skin and glossy hair, the green matching his eyes perfectly. He smiled in pure vanity, imagining the figure he cut.

   And before him, considerably less well-dressed, knelt Thor. 

   To be sure, he was only on his knees because the guards had forced him down, but Loki could still enjoy the effect as he gazed on him; muscular arms bound behind his back, thin white under-tunic open at the throat, head lowered, his entire frame nearly vibrating with anger. Freshly-scrubbed and dried blond hair fell stubbornly into dark blue eyes that glared their loathing onto the floor at his adopted brother’s feet.

   Despite the smile on his lips as he sat forward, chin resting on his fist, the Jötun hated the thoughts that rose up in his mind at times like these. Thoughts of tangling his fingers in all that fine, golden hair and pressing deep and deeper still into the heat of his mouth. Thoughts of muffled moans and struggles as Loki buried his aching length in the warm flesh of his enemy.

   Instead of doing any of those things he sat back angrily, fingers gripping the arms of the chair harder as he nearly snarled his question: “What have you to tell me now,  _Odinson_?” The name, as always, came out as a bitter insult only made worse by the twisting of all his other urges into a deeper rage. “Are you ready yet to accept my reign?”

   The words were benign enough, but the emotion behind them implied a threat of worse to come if he still refused. Loki watched the other man’s tanned, stubborn face eagerly, almost hoping he’d continue fighting. 

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   Loki’s attack had come as a surprise to everyone, even more so when he actually managed to overthrow the Allfather. Things had moved quickly after that, the final battle between the two brothers ending with Loki pressing him into the ground, his arms bound by magic and too heavy to call Mjölnir back to him. He was not sure what had happened to their mother or the other warriors that had fought by his side, he was not even sure how many days he had already spent in this prison. Although ‘prison’ was only correct in that Thor was kept here. Other than that it was mostly a room with only small slits right beneath the ceiling as windows. Thor had a bed, and even something like a spartan bathroom in an alcove at one end of the room. It certainly was nothing compared to what luxury he was used to but it was far better than the actual dungeons. It made Thor wonder what Loki’s deal was; it hardly was sentiment, the other came often enough to gloat at him, sneering hateful words and basking in the light of his own success.

   So it came as a surprise when four of the strongest guards of Asgard came to tell him that ‘the King’ wished to see him. Thor merely huffed and ignored them, but they did not leave. Instead, he was grabbed and unceremoniously disrobed, shoved under the shower and scrubbed until his skin was raw. He'd struggled, but was no match against the four guards, not with the damage he had suffered in the battle against his brother and not without Mjölnir.

   Thor’s face burned with humiliation at being treated like this. Still, he made sure to not let any sound escape his mouth, not when he was dressed like a doll, not when his hands were bound behind his back and he was shoved out of the room.

   He was brought to Loki’s private quarters, a thing he had also not expected. Thor had no illusions that anything else but further humiliation waited for him, though, and so he gritted his teeth and let himself be led into the room and forced down onto his knees by the guards. He never would have knelt before Loki otherwise, he refused to honour this illegitimate king who build his power upon violence and lies. 

   Thor spared Loki nothing but a quick glance before he averted his eyes and stubbornly kept them on the floor before him. The trickster sat on his simple chair as if it were a throne, knees spread and arms gripping the arm rests tightly. It would have been pathetic if Loki had not been such a dangerous man.

   He sneered at the question and looked up to let the other see that while he might be able to reign, he could not rule him. “Never!” he exclaimed and spat at the ground near Loki’s feet.


	2. Chapter 2

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   Inevitably, as Loki was well aware, this would end in only one of two ways: defeat, or death. Whose may not matter in the larger part of the tale, but it had always been of great concern to him personally.

   If Thor didn’t give in sooner or later, he would have to be executed, and that—oddly—he felt a certain reluctance about. No, it would be far simpler for them both if his false “brother” would capitulate. Just say the damned words, accept that he’d lost his kingdom, maybe even genuinely welcome his new king.. Was that   _really_   so much to ask?

   The dark-haired god mulled bitterly on the continued refusal. After all, it had been a fair fight… well, for certain values, a least… and his victory surely deserved some recognition.  The Aesir, though, had always hailed stubbornness as a virtue above all others.

   Kneeling there at his feet, he thought Thor looked like nothing so much as a sullen, defeated child who refused to admit it. Typical.

   With a single cold glare at the bowed blond head, he let the insult pass. To do otherwise would court rage enough to kill the deposed prince on the spot, which was not what he wanted. Not at all. Instead he stood and crossed the half-step between them. The guards were gone by now, and he couldn’t physically lift Thor without the aid of magic. Nearly, but not   _quite._   It had always been wit and speed that he most relied on; thus the need for restraints on the larger man now, and the guards waiting outside.

   And so, unable to lift him to his feet, Loki instead crouched to eye level, letting hatred fill him to overflowing as he shoved Thor’s hair aside, catching it in his fingers and wrenching his head back hard in unconscious mimicry of earlier imaginings.

   “I will do whatever I must to force your recognition.” He warned calmly, pausing for a beat before his face split into wide, cruel grin and he leaned closer, murmuring as though sharing a secret: “That woman of yours, the one on Midgard—she is no longer beyond my reach. I could have her brought here.” He paused again, licking his underlip. “I could have you  _watch,_  if that were my wish.” He leered, enjoying baiting the man far too much but no longer certain he cared if it showed.

   “If you continue to fight me on this, make no mistake, I’ll do that and worse. There is no room in Asgard for two kings, brother mine.” Sitting back on his heels, Loki lifted his head proudly as he watched understanding dawn in those deep blue eyes. 

   Oh how he loathed that pained, disbelieving look. Loathed everything about the man in front of him, in fact. His hair, his face, his mouth—he’d always hated it. Everything that he could never be.

                     ~~ _Everything that he could never have._~~

   What drove the impulse, the trickster could never have said. One second he’d have happily brutalized his enemy’s best-beloved right in front of him… but then there was the sound of the larger man’s breathing as the anger built, the look on his face twisting from pain to anger, the flush of red in his cheeks, and Loki’s mouth unexpectedly met Thor’s, his tongue forcing its way between the other's lips with a rough, throaty sound that wavered between desperate lust and raw contempt.

   Snarling, he stood without pause or warning, tearing his fingers free of the tousled  blond locks and calling for the guards.

   “Take him away.” He gasped. “He is  _nothing_  to me.” His voice shook with rage as he stalked out of the room and to bed.

 

* * *

 

  **↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   He could see the anger in Loki’s face upon his refusal and it surprised him when his brother did not lash out at him at once. Loki had made it quite clear in the past days that all he wanted was Thor’s submission and his acceptance of Loki as the king of Asgard. But this would not happen, he had sworn, not now and not in the future. The throne of Asgard was not Loki’s to take and the role of king fitted his brother ill. A king should be honourable and adored and he saw none of this in a man who had ascended the throne by force and seemingly kept it by this as well if Thor’s treatment was any indication.

   Why his brother wanted to rule in the first place was a mystery to Thor. So far, he did not have the impression the other haboured any love for the Aesir but this was just another question on top of all of those surrounding his brother. Once, he may have been able to trust his brother to change, to believe in the words their father had spoken so long ago: that they were both born to be kings, that when one ascended the throne, the other would be at his side for guidance and counsel.

   But all those hopes and dreams were for naught, he knew that now. Thor was beaten, defeated and humiliated, unable to protect the realm he loved from the man he had once loved most of all. His refusal was the only power he still had over Loki and he was aware that this was a dangerous game he played. Yet, he had already lost everything, his honour, his home, his brother, what more was left for the trickster to take?

   He snarled at at his brother as his head was lifted by a painful grip on his hair. “You cannot  _force_ recognition,” he pressed out between gritted teeth but stopped once Loki mentioned Jane. Jane, his dear Jane, he was not seriously threatening to drag that wonderful woman into this hateful game of theirs? 

   Thor could not stop his emotions from showing openly on his face and he doubted his brother interpreted them as anything but what they were: First, there was naked fear and panic upon the knowledge that Jane was in danger, that it would be his fault and that there would be nothing he could do to protect her. He looked at Loki to see whether the other was joking, maybe all of this was just another trick to get what he wanted.

   But this Loki did not joke and jest as easily as the old one might have, he knew that now. There was no emotion in those green eyes, at least none Thor recognized as anything else but cold hatred. Anger welled up in him, overtaking him completely and making his blood boil. The ropes that bound his hands were cutting harshly into his wrists as he tried to pull them free because he needed to… he needed to grab Loki by the collar and shake him. To punch him until his fist ached as much as his chest did right now.

   He did not want this. This brother. This king. He wished they had never come to this.

   And then Loki kissed him, the intimacy of the touch a stark contrast to the brutal way he shoved his tongue inside the thunder god’s mouth. With this he caught Thor off guard who, between the threats and his fear and anger, was not able to make sense of it. He was not able to fully connect what was happening to reality until it ended again.

   And he knew this was something he needed to make sense of, something that might help him understand what was happening and why it was happening. Had he been a wiser man he would have known how to react but being who he was his anger blocked out every little sense of reason he might have had.

   “No, brother!” he yelled as the guards returned and pulled him to his feet again. “I am the one one you  _wish_ were nothing to you, am I right? Because to the people out there  _you_ are nothing! They do not love you, they never did and they certainly do not now!” His rage was like a beast in him, wild and uncontrolled, threatening to finally break down everything around and between them. “That is why you yearn for my submission, is it not? Because I am the only one who might have mattered at one point, the only one who does not fear you! Because this is what your reign is built upon, fear and terror but not love! You tell yourself that is what you wanted but you cann—” Thor broke off in a painful groan as one of the guards brutally punched his stomach, hard enough to knock the breath out of him and make him sink to his knees as he was dragged out of the room.

 


	3. Chapter 3

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   At his words Loki paused, spine stiff and face divided between pain and outrage, but the sound of the guards silencing further lies brought a smile of grim satisfaction to the Trickster’s lips.  
  
   Still, he slept fitfully that night.  
  
   Thor’s claims haunted him even when he woke, and in his minds’ eye he could only see his anger at the threat to harm Jane (and was that a pang of jealousy that Loki felt, or only contempt? He wasn’t sure he could tell the difference anymore). That memory was bitter enough, but the shame and sheer  _idiocy_  of that kiss, and worst of all his words, echoing through the antechamber: 'I am the one you  _wish_  were nothing to you,' and 'They do not love you, they never did.' Those simple statements hurt in ways that did not bear considering.  
  
   But was Thor  _right_? Was his rule based on subjugation and rigid authority only because he  _knew_ that he could never be loved? Never be accepted?    
  
   ‘No.’ Loki thought. A thousand times,  _no_. This was the right way, the  _only_  way to rule a people too ignorant to recognize the worth of intellect and cunning when compared to mere brute strength. Better to lead them by the thing they understood best—force.

   They had only themselves to blame, really.  
  
   As for his brother, there was only one possible solution, only one way to stop his lies for good.  
  
   On his next visit, Loki was well prepared. No armor, for none would be necessary; this was a new Asgard and new traditions must be allowed their day, after all. Instead, the king wore black with gold, a green gem resting just above his heart on a finely-wrought chain and two bands of rune-traced gold under the sleeves of his tunic. He could never be as strong as Thor, so he would rely on the skill native to him _—sorcery._

   The daggers he carried were similarly crafted things and would offer much more than shallow wounds to the thunder god. It was time for this to end.

   As soon as he’d entered the cell, Loki sent the guards away, his thin face haunted and bloodless as he looked at the man he’d once thought bound to him by blood. Only the trickster’s eyes still seemed alive, blazing with a mad green fire that promised violence.

   “I’ve come to hear more of your pretty words.” He hissed, voice as cold and hollow as the look on his face as he pulled one dagger free from its sheath. “Before I still your tongue forever.”

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   The evening had been anything but pleasant for Thor, and the punch he had taken to the gut at Loki’s doorstep obviously had only been a taste of what was to come for him. When the four guards finally left his cell he was barely coherent any more, blinding pain throbbing in his whole body. There was blood dripping to the floor he lay on but he could not determine where it came from. He felt he was slowly losing consciousness and barely managed to drag himself onto the bed before he did so.

   When he awoke what must have been hours later his head was still throbbing but apparently the bleeding had stopped. The power of Iðunn’s apples must have been rushing through his veins still for most of his wounds were already healing up nicely. He still was bruised and sore, but it was nothing he could not handle. After what he had said to Loki yesterday he had no doubt there were going to be retaliations.

   Thor regretted he had not been able to see his brother's face when he had hurled all those spiteful words at his head. He wondered if Loki had thought about what he'd said. As much as he hated the trickster for what he did, he could not help but hope that there was still some part of the old Loki in him somewhere, buried deep, very deep possibly, one part that might still consider his words. It was one of his weak points. No matter what happened he couldn't help hoping that Loki would change, that he would make things right. He could hate Loki as much as possible, but he could never stop caring about him entirely.

   The only things that really prevented him from doing anything foolish were his anger and the fact that he had been around Loki for  _centuries._

   His brother returned earlier than he would have thought, Thor had only just finished washing the dried blood off his face when he entered. To his surprise, the guards were not present this time to restrain him even when Loki ventured fully into the room and closed the door behind him. This meant that he was either unafraid or had taken precautions to ensure he had the advantage over Thor, possibly both.

   “Come to talk to me, brother?” Thor asked and stood as Loki stepped closer to him, the dagger in his hand glistening in the shallow light of the room. Ah, so they were back to violence now, were they not? The Aesir grinned humourlessly. Loki was strong and dangerous, even more so now that Thor was injured and Mjölnir was out of his reach. if he could only reach beyond the thick walls and whatever force field Loki had surely conjured, things would be different.

   “Who am I to refuse my  _brother?_ ” Thor said tonelessly, not taking an eye off him. He needed to somehow get under Loki’s skin, break his concentration if he wanted to have any chance at all. Thankfully, the past day had provided him with just such an opportunity. “Then words we shall have if that is what the would-be king wishes.” He paused and took one bold step closer. “Unless he wishes for something else, of course. Another kiss perhaps?”


	4. Chapter 4

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   It was clear that the guards had been at him already. Regrettable, but then they had been chosen for their loyalty—and would be rewarded for it as well, Loki thought with a smile.

   During all the time since they’d spoken, through every sleepless night and long, irritating day, he had nursed his wounded ego as the confusion of emotions grew ever more unmanageable. Finally, only one clear feeling emerged, and from that his decision was made: He hated him.

   With every cell, every fiber, every  _mote_  of his being, the newly-crowned king radiated hatred for Thor. He was under no illusions now—not after so little sleep and so much thought. This was more than just the petty anger of an outshone sibling but the rage of the spurned, unrequited lover. At least in a certain sense. His was a twisted love, born out of envy and covetousness. It was greedy and cruel and would see the entire world burn before it ever revealed a single sliver of itself, but it was the only kind of love Loki felt any longer, and he embraced it.

   Because finally, it no longer mattered what drove his rage. This one constant source of pain would finally be gone from his life and he would be at peace. He would never be ashamed again, never feel lessened. He would be free.

   Once inside the small cell, he let the perfect calm of his own shimmering madness wash over him, standing at its center like a man in the still, hushed eye of a storm. Until Thor’s parting shot, that is. Then the stillness shattered and the tempest crashed in, leaving him senseless and unhinged in his fury. 

   Snarling through teeth clenched so tightly he thought they might crack, the trickster lunged, a thing of fierce and mindless wrath in the shape of man as he slashed a wild arc against his brother’s chest. He’d meant to kill him anyway, but for  _this_ insult, he vowed to save death for last.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   It worked. It worked a bit too well, actually. In mere seconds Loki’s face turned from calm and collected to plainly murderous and he lashed out. The god of mischief had always been praised for his speed, and rightly so. Even if Thor hadn't been injured it would have been hard for him to fully dodge the attack. Like this, the blade cut cleanly through the flesh of his chest, searing pain shooting through him as he stumbled back.

   He caught himself against the wall, pressing a hand to the large gash Loki had caused.  _Sore spot,_ he thought grimly as he watched blood soak through his shirt and cover his hand.

   “I take this as a no, then,” Thor said with a cough. The other was radiating aggression now and he wondered whether he was really going to kill him this time. Loki had threatened to do so many times before, after all. The thunderer could not say what had halted his hand each time and he highly doubted it was the same sentiment that had stopped Thor from killing  _him_ ; he doubted Loki felt the same connection, the inability to be without the other, the knowledge that Thor would only regret it. Maybe it was because he'd already lost his brother once. For a whole turning of seasons he had thought him dead and it had hurt more than anything before in his life. He could still remember the suffocating pain when he went into Loki’s old room where everything waited, as if the occupant would return at any minute. Only, Thor knew he would not, just like he was aware of his brother’s absence in any given moment of the day. 

   No matter what Loki did or might do in the future, killing him would leave a hole in his life that he would not be able to bear.

   He smiled wearily as he realised that this one-sided attachment could very well mean his death. When he looked into Loki’s eyes he had no doubt it would.

   “I see,” he said quietly, “and here I had thought you would prefer a public execution.” He let out a shuddering breath and straightened himself again, one hand still pressed against the wound on his chest. “Do your worst, brother.”

  He would not make it easy for him, though. Loki had just proved he, too, was vulnerable and Thor would take every chance he got. Taking on a defensive stance, he waited for the trickster to make the next move.


	5. Chapter 5

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   It almost came as a shock that Thor hadn’t been able to dodge the strike, and for a half-second Loki paused ( _what have I done?_ ), but then the hatred was back, bringing with it the cold, familiar void at the center of his chest. Even with tears of rage gathering in his eyes, he grinned fiercely at his injured foe.

   “I thought you’d have worked it out by now,  _brother_ ,” he spat the word in contempt, realizing that he was echoing Thor’s earlier sentiment even as he did so. “The kiss was only meant to humble you in front of others, and remind you that I can and will do  _exactly_  as I please.” His silken voice was ragged with loathing, but still there was that pang, even under the swirling madness and crushing hatred that had engulfed him, as he saw the wound his blade had left.   _So much blood…_

   He flicked away his regret, remembering how often he’d allowed such sentimentality to stay his hand in the past. Would any of this have happened if he hadn’t? No. He was sure of it. 

   Circling in a ready crouch, holding both daggers now and preparing for another attack, the tears evaporated to leave only a broad, feral grin as he noted where the cut had landed: Just above the heart. How fitting.

   He allowed himself no doubts this time. He  _would_  do it. For the sake of his own sanity and the security of his reign, he  _must_. 

   Once, Thor had been the only one who still tried to reach him. And once, Loki had genuinely cared. He’d practically hung on every word praise, every scrap of attention.  _Pathetic_. But those days were long since past now. Like his father, Loki thought, the idea of a monster—a Jötun—assuming the throne of Asgard was one his false brother could never and would never accept. Having usurped their claims, of course he could only be hated, now. 

 _No,_  some small part of him whispered.  _Thor has never given up, never. Not until now._   But that was what had driven the sorcerer over this jagged edge at last. That he  _had_  given up. Just as everyone else had. And that was the reason he had to die now; seeing the hatred in those ocean-blue eyes was too much to endure any longer, no matter what he'd done to earn it.

   “Oh, no.” He laughed, a dry rasp of humorless sound. “Nothing as grand as that, not for you. You made your point so very well when last we spoke—the people  _do_  hate me. Why would I give them a martyr to rally around? No. You’ll simply vanish until every man, woman, and child in Asgard has forgotten your name.”

   Rounding on him without warning, Loki slashed again, defending with one blade while the other aimed for Thor’s throat.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   Loki’s agility was unmatched but Thor had one advantage: He'd known his brother all his life. This meant that many of the Liesmith's attacks were somewhat predictable for him. After all, they had spent fighting a good deal of their lives side by side and had to be familiar with the other’s fighting style in order to work together properly. Loki’s first attack had surprised him but he would take care not to let this happen again. In his current state, he would rather not risk losing too much blood for he doubted he would be gifted with another of Iðunn’s apples afterwards.

   So when Loki attacked him again, he was prepared. His brother took one step forward to swing the blade with more force, his arm raising as the other knife was kept at his side in a defensive stance. There was no doubt, the trickster was going for his throat and he could use that to his advantage. Due to their respective heights, Loki would need to move his arm in a nearly horizontal line to hit his target. Thor avoided this attack by letting himself fall backwards, the wound on his chest erupting in searing pain as he caught himself in a half-crouch in front of his brother, and in the same movement swung one leg forward to land a well-aimed kick to one of Loki’s kneecaps. 

   It stopped his brother long enough for Thor to roll away from him, leaving a thin trail of blood in his wake. Against the wall, right beside the door stood a chair that the guards had left there. During his first days of imprisonment there had always been one guard sitting there to supervise him. He was not sure why Loki had decided to remove the guards from the room, but the chair had stayed, thankfully. He grabbed it now and hurled it against the wall. It broke easily with wood splintering around the thunderer, leaving him with what he needed most: a long wooden beam that would allow him to fight his brother with something more than his bare hands.

   When Loki lunged again, he was able to stop his dagger from finding flesh this time. The next kick missed but he was able to graze his brother’s cheek as he swung the stick at him.

   “You wanted to humiliate  _me?_ ” he asked once he'd caught his breath. “I am not the one performing these disgraceful acts, Loki. The only one humiliated was -- as always --  _you_ , dear brother, for you are the one who has to take such derogatory measures because he cannot solve his problems otherwise.”

   He kicked a big splinter at Loki’s head but the other flicked it off with ease. “What you fail to see is that there will always be people like me, there will always be people that do not agree with you. I would think that even now they are already plotting your downfall. What do you plan to do about that?” he yelled as he jumped at his brother, daggers and wood meeting with force. “Only, they are not like me, are they?” Thor hissed as he aimed for Loki’s head again. “They do not know you the way I do, they only know you as who you are now. That is why they do not care about you!” 


	6. Chapter 6

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   It was amazing that one could forget the habits of so many years, but Loki found himself stunned by his brother’s dexterity. It didn’t seem fair somehow that he could be that strong and still so agile, and it always seemed to catch him off guard no matter how often he tried to be mindful of it.

   The dodge was as frustrating as it was deft. His only satisfaction lay in seeing the pained look on Thor’s face as the wound opened further, but the trickster convinced himself it didn’t matter—as long as he could get a few more cuts in, the other might avoid as long as he cared to and still lose. This was a favored trick from years of hunting: To attack and attack, always dancing just out of reach until the animal bled out, letting it stumble before delivering that final act of mercy.

   Of course, the thunder god would  _know_  that strategy by now, and block every move.  _Damn him_. He  _should_  die, he  _deserved_ to die!

   The sudden kick was enough to dislocate his knee with a sharp, wet “pop” and he felt muscles and ligaments tear. The pain was enough to make his eyes water, and he bit back the sound it demanded, turning what could have been a cry of distress into a howl of rage instead. The stone around his neck glowed a sickening green as the ache faded back, but it still sent breathtaking jolts through him at every step, too damaged to bear his weight. He could feel the muscles knot and cramp as they mended themselves, the damage healing slowly at the golden bands on his arms heated against the skin, their magic weaving through him.

   Half-crippled though he was, Loki still pursued, but by the time he’d recovered enough to strike back Thor had armed himself. The sorcerer-king realized bitterly that the upper hand was no longer his, assuming it ever had been.

   He tried to dodge the first swing but couldn’t quite, and the sharp sting as the wood glanced past his cheek hurt like a sudden slap, angering more than it wounded.

   “Disgraceful.” Loki echoed, his throat tight and voice heavy with rage, though whether at himself or his opponent, it was impossible to tell. “But you did not hear how the guards laughed, brother mine, and whispered that you must be  _argr_  to allow such a thing. You never even fought it!

   And so far, my problem-solving skills have proven  _more_  than adequate for the tasks they’ve encountered. But you, of course, refuse to see the patently obvious: Like me, you were born to be a king. Like me, you must either rule or die. But if only you could  _accede_ , if you could only  _accept_   me…”

   For a moment Loki was lost in thought, adrift in place and time, standing forever at the edges of a thing he longed to call home but never could. The two of them, ruling Asgard together. He shook off the stupidity of his own emotions with a snarl. 

   “…you could be exiled! I was trying to save your life, you hopeless idiot.”

   But no matter how many childish insults he hurled, Thor’s words still echoed in his head, and burned.   _‘Disgraceful acts,’ ‘the only one humiliated is you._ ’

   The rage was back, but it was fading even as he knocked aside the bit of broken wood and turned, cold and regal and wholly untouchable. All talk of eventual revolt was ignored—that could always be dealt with, no matter how many people had to die before the lesson was learned. 

   His leg had nearly recovered now, but still blocked and dodged the thunderer’s makeshift weapon only barely, his will to continue quickly fading. It should have been swift and clean, should have been  _finished_   by now, but of course, with Thor nothing was ever that easy. He somehow got the best of him even in his moments of triumph.

  The wood connected with Loki’s skull hard enough that he felt, more than heard, the bones shatter. Dark spots swarmed and danced before his emerald eyes, the room swimming around him. As he stumbled forward one hand rested on something hard, covered by a sticky wetness. Dimly, he realized on whom he’d just caught himself and wanted to laugh but the sound wouldn’t come.

   Just like the animals he’d hunted—there was that stumble, and now nothing remained but to wait for the hunter’s mercy. The laugh finally came, and it was a sour, spiteful sound.

   “More right than you know, Odinson,” he gasped. “They really  _are_   different. The people hate me for what I’ve done, not for what I   _am_.

   The gem around his neck blazed and flickered with a frantic light, then darkened as he collapsed, daggers clattering to the stone floor and consciousness fading.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   The trickster was vicious but he was also slower than before, Thor must have caused actual damage with his kick.  _All the better,_  he thought bitterly as he continued his attacks without cease.

   His brother’s comments were like salt on wounded flesh, burning in near blinding pain and only adding to his anger. He could see the way Loki’s arms shook with exertion as he blocked the thunderer's hits but he would not relent. He wondered whether the other still underestimated him, whether he still had a plan to best Thor in the end.

   “ _Argr,_ ” Thor spat, “something  _you_ are surely more than familiar with.” It was a low blow and he actually regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, even more so when he managed to land another hit in one short moment of inattention from Loki’s side. There had always been nasty rumours about his brother, about him being  _argr,_ for he was a sorcerer, master of a woman’s art and not a warrior as men of Asgard were supposed to be. As far as Thor knew none of these rumours actually held true and he had never hesitated to defend his brother’s honour before. Truth was, he never asked Loki whether it was so or not for he would have stayed by his side no matter what. But those days were long past.

   He could not say whether the force of the next blow was caused by his disgust at Loki or himself, all he felt was the hot anger pooling in his chest, his wrath all-consuming. It was in these moments that he was most dangerous — and most unpredictable. “Are you telling me this is your  _kindness?_ ” Thor yelled as he swung the bar at Loki again. “To have me  _exiled?_  To steal everything from me? My home, my  _family?_ ” His voice broke at the last word, a sudden wave of excruciating pain crashing down. Curse him, he could not show his brother how he'd managed to get under his skin. 

   The thunderer could barely breathe any more, boiling rage rushing through his veins at Loki’s words, his attacks, the hatred in his eyes, the events of the past weeks. How dare his brother to claim he was  _trying to  save his life._  How dare he take Thor’s emotions and throw them right back in his face, how dare he lead them down this unfortunate path, burning down everything that was between them.

   The wood crashed hard against Loki’s skull with the sickening sound of splintering bone. The force made the Jötun stumble to the side and Thor could already see his eyes losing focus. For a moment he honestly thought this was another trick, and when Loki stumbled towards him he gripped his wrists tightly to avoid being stabbed. The beam Thor had used to defend himself fell clattering to the floor next to them.

   But this was no lie, Loki’s face was losing colour rapidly, blood dripping from his nose, the corner of his mouth and the nasty wound at the side of his head. 

 _Too much blood,_ Thor thought, frozen to the spot and staring at his brother helplessly. Right now, he was not the God of Thunder who fought against the injustice that had befallen this realm, he was simply the older brother who deeply regretted his actions.

   The harsh words stung and Thor let go off Loki as if burned. He could do nothing but stare as the other's lifeless body fell to the ground with a dull sound, his proud form lying in a pool of his own blood on the dirty prison floor.

   Now the room was utterly silent except for Thor’s strained panting. “Loki?” he asked but got no answer. “Loki?” he asked louder, panic rising in him as he bent down. He knew it, he knew it, he would regret it if he killed him, how could he kill Loki, his own brother, he had sworn himself to be better, he had…

   …Loki was not dead. Thor could feel his slow heartbeat when he pressed his hands to his brother’s chest. He blamed the adrenaline when he needed a moment to blink back the tears that stung in his eyes. He was alive, still bleeding profusely but alive, at least. Thor could not leave him lying on the floor like this, though. Alerting the guards was no option for they would probably murder him on the spot for this.

   In the bathroom the towel the guards had used yesterday to dry his hair with still hung over the washbasin. It wasn't spotlessly clean, but it would do. He grabbed it and returned to wrap it tightly around the man's head to stop the bleeding. He had no doubt Loki would heal soon enough (he  _hoped_ he would) and if he was not fully mistaken, the gems his brother wore had something to do with it. It was still warm but Thor could not say whether that meant they still worked or not. He decided to leave them on just in case. However, he removed all of Loki’s weapons. He was no fool, an injured trickster would be like a wasp trapped in a glass: not thankful to be freed again but even angrier than before.

   Thor rummaged through every fold of the "king's" clothing to make sure he removed every single hidden dagger and even pulled off his brother’s boots to avoid hidden blades before he finally hoisted him up onto the bed by the wall. It sent a weird kind of thrill down his spine to be able to manhandle Loki thus. This was more than they had touched in ages, Thor's hands under his brother’s knees and shoulders as he carried him over to the bed. It was wondrous and made him linger, rearranging Loki’s arms and legs with careful fingers, reluctant to pull away just yet.

   All the exertion put an unpleasant strain on the wound in his chest and once Loki lay on the cot, Thor needed a moment to collect himself again, breathing around the pain.

   However, only half of the pain was of physical nature, he knew. His brother's last words before losing consciousness still rang clearly in the Aesir's ears:  _The people hate me for what I’ve_ **done** _, not for what I_ **am.** As if Thor felt the opposite.

 _No,_ he thought bitterly,  _it's the other way around, brother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (argr, as I understand it, implies the feminine role of a male/male relationship and was frowned upon at one point by the Vikings. Please forgive if I’ve gotten this wrong.)


	7. Chapter 7

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   His dreams were a nightmarish jumble of old memories, bound together in no order, with no beginning or end. He remembered the laughter, the teasing. Remembered the sweet thrill of victory when his magic—the thing that had made him an outcast, the one thing he loved above all else but one—finally won in battle. The nightmare turned to things that were not, and to things that would be; to his endless rage at the Aesir for all that they’d taken from him, to the rending of flesh as Fenrir ate his fill, then even to the fatal moment when Heimdall crushed his skull. In one dream was the echo of drip after drip into a bowl and the inevitable pain that came when it was emptied. He remembered watching Thor’s first kiss with the maiden Sif, and sneaking into her room to cut her glimmering locks in a fit of jealousy. Loki’s mind spun and reeled with all it saw as the healing bands on his arms did their slow work.

   He awoke with a start, head still aching unbearably, and realized that he had nearly been killed—and yet, hadn’t.

   “Why…” he attempted, but words were difficult and his tongue was clumsy. “Why did you… spare me?” He stammered, wincing as the echo of his own voice reverberated painfully through his head. “You should have… Asgard would’ve been yours… We would both be free…” 

   Struggling to sit up, he found that his eyes would not focus. Panting, he fell back with a sound of frustration. He could call the guards, he knew, but somehow he felt… disinclined. Maybe it was the brain injury affecting his ability to think clearly. Surely that was it.

   “I was never  _argr_ ,” he gasped abruptly, a snarl of anger wrapped around the words. “I know what they said… what they  _all_  whispered about me. But think of me as whatever you like—as good one kind of monster as another. Outcast from the house of Odin either way.” His laugh was bitter, ending in  a dry, choking cough. Loki vaguely wondered if the bracers were honestly up to the task of healing such a wound. He had no way of knowing, since he’d never designed them to bear such a blow. It was a curious question, but more pressing ones filled his mind.

   “Why not kill me? Take back your precious throne from the Jötun freak who’s taken it, hm? You had the chance—or were you too weak to do what your father would have done? What  _my_  father would have done?” His lips curled fiercely at the thought of Laufey, and he’d have laughed again if not for the fear of sobs emerging.

   As he spoke, he struggled to lift his hands, wanting nothing more than to attack and angered by his inability to do so. Still—Silvertongue they had called him, and words were as good a weapon as any.

   “Better exiled than dead,” he rasped. “I should know.” And now his eyes were unfocusing again, his body demanding further rest to heal itself, but he fought it. Why had he been spared? He needed to know. He  _had_  to know.

   His disjointed thoughts and blurred vision took in the wound that still seeped slowly on Thor’s chest, and as he began to drift back into darkness, he finally regained some movement—enough to tug weakly at the golden band on one arm. “Take it.” He murmured. “It will heal you.”

   For a few seconds, he was a child again, one who had accidentally wounded his brother in play and wanted only to make it right. Then it was gone and he wove in and out of consciousness, stray words rising to the surface.

   He couldn’t tell if they were spoken or only thought:   _‘…disgusting acts… weakling boy… a woman's art... he brings shame to the house of Odin…’_     And he desperately wished for his full strength back that he may cut away those offending tongues—his brother's most of all—kill see Asgard burn and its people with it, burn to ash until the words stopped echoing in his head. But beneath that was an aching disappointment that his magic had protected him from the fatal blow after all.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   Loki was restless beside him, constantly drifting in and out of consciousness. The wound had stopped bleeding at some point but it was far from healed and Thor still was not sure whether the gems he wore were still working, whether the seiðr in Loki’s veins would be strong enough to mend his injuries. 

   When he was sure it was safe, he removed the towel and went to the basin to wash the blood out of it as much as possible. With it wet, he carefully cleaned his brother’s face, making sure not to get too close to his wound and re-open it again. Loki was still pale but he looked better without the deep red streams of dried blood on his cheeks and nose. Thor felt like they were young again, barely even men, recovering together after one of their first battles. Everyone praised the glory of battle and the brothers’ skills in fighting, but no-one had told them about the inglorious side, the pain and the death, the memories that haunted them at night, the smell of blood Thor could not escape. He would admit it to no-one, the fear that he had felt during those early battles, or after his first kills. He did not even tell Loki, yet his brother knew. He saw his own fear reflected in those green eyes as they sat together in the evening, silently tending to their wounds, touches so much gentler than they usually were between them.

   Beside him, Loki sat up and starting talking, asking all the questions that Thor could not answer. (Or rather: he could. He could, he could, he could. However, he would not. He would not grant this victory.)

   “Brother, lie down,” He said and grabbed Loki’s shoulder as the other sat up in a fit of delirium. “You are injured, lie down,” he repeated as if this could shelter him from the bitter truth of the trickster's words, from the honesty hidden in them that Thor did not want to hear, the possibility that the only one that wanted Loki  _here_  was himself.

   “I do not care if you were or are  _argr,_ ” he yelled more angrily than he intended. His brother was still upright and Thor could see him shivering in strain, his face pale and slick with sweat. He didn't dare push him too hard for fear that Loki would fall back and hit his injured head against the bed frame. Actually, he barely dared to touch his brother at all. Thor was torn between yearning and disgust and it left him all but frozen, impassive, unable to decide what to to, unable to even know what he wanted. His fingers craved warmth, his hands wanted to feel the way Loki’s heart beat against his ribcage, pumping deep red blood and  _life_ through his veins. He ached in all the places he missed his brother, the holes his absence left in Thor’s life dull and hollow, weighting hard on his mind and on his heart. At the same time, the memories of pain, of spiteful words and humiliation were still fresh on his mind and whenever those eyes turned cold with hatred Thor drowned in his own anger again. He wanted to hurt Loki, to make him pay for what he done… until he did. He was disgusted at his brother's actions and even more so at his own.

   The words did not help and he did not want to hear him either. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape the reality that was before him. His brother, the king he needed to bring down for the sake of Asgard.  _You could have brought him down already,_ a nasty voice in his head whispered and the thought of Loki dead to his feet made him feel sick.

   “I do not want to kill you!” he finally yelled, mostly to drown out the other's words. “I never wanted to kill you, brother! It…” he bit his lip and blinked away the tears of frustration that threatened to gather in his eyes. “It is no weakness! This… it is about more than Asgard.” 

   He wanted the realm's safety. But he did not want it as much as his brother's life, he had realised that today. There was a bond between them he did not dare sever, the very bond that both killed and kept them alive.

   Finally Loki lay back again and Thor dared to loosen his hold on the man's sleeves. “ _Argr,_ monster, oaf, liar, prince… it really does not matter. We are brothers and nothing will change this, I  _will_ not let anything change this. Not even death,” he whispered as he watched Loki’s eyes closing again.

   His gaze fell to the golden band on Loki’s arm, the one he'd just offered. He'd tugged at it but was still too uncoordinated to pull it off. Thor reached forward to wrap his hands around it. “I thank you. I will make use of it later,” he said and left it were it was. Loki needed it more than he did right now, though he appreciated the gesture. An odd sense of nostalgia hit him, one that would undoubtedly be a foolish mistake had the mage his full powers. Right now, Thor used it as an excuse to linger a bit longer, to feel the warmth of the metal underneath his palm and of Loki’s body when his fingers brushed over the skin.

   Even after he pulled back his hand, he lingered at his brother’s side, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching his face closely as he wondered what he was supposed to do until Loki woke again.


	8. Chapter 8

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   The bracers had already cooled by the time full consciousness returned. Loki’s head still felt like it had been stuffed with stinging nettled and angry wasps, but at least there was no bleeding now, though his dark hair was matted with it. Idly, he wondered if even the healers could have saved him from that blow if he’d not been wearing anything to absorb it. Likely not. 

   Turning to look at his almost-murderer, he was surprised to feel no familiar drive for revenge, no cold hatred in the pit of his stomach, only the strange sadness of memory. Thor was asleep, still sitting upright with his back against the wall and arms folded over his chest. It had been such a long time since he’d seen that familiar face so calm, not distorted by anger, or outrage, or hurt… 

   A sudden tightness in his chest forced the sorcerer to his feet, groping blindly toward the door with sluggish, ungainly steps. Wordlessly, he unbolted the lock with a gesture, thankful that his magic still worked even if the pain in his head worsened as soon as he used it. 

   Locking the door again behind him, he waved over the two guards waiting at the end of the corridor and addressed them in a hushed, sharp tone: “The next of you to lay hands on the prisoner in that cell will answer to me for it. Those are my new orders, and you know how I reward loyalty.” In truth, he didn’t so much reward it as punish  _dis_ loyalty  severely  enough to encourage its opposite to a near-zealous degree, but the overall effect was the same,

   Still, he would need a reason for this change if he didn’t want rumours to spread, and so he glared at the two in disdain. “I prefer to repay his insults myself—and speaking of such, he’ll now need a healer—send for one. We need him healthy.”

   Back in his chambers, Loki found rest as elusive as ever. He remembered—with horror and a sense of angry shame at himself—bits and pieces of what had been said, and it was the actions as much as the words that left him in such confusion that sleep was impossible.

   Why hadn’t Thor killed him when he’d had the chance? Why hadn’t he killed Thor? Why treat his wounds after the fact, and what had driven him to offer up his own charmed bracer, knowing that without both he would almost certainly die? Did his once-adopted, once-accepted sibling really not care about those rumours? Not care that he was a monster? And of all the things for Loki to concern himself with now, why  _that_? 

   Because it was one more thing that marked him as different. As inferior. As weak, in a world where strength was everything.

   But none of that mattered, he convinced himself: Thor should be dead and wasn’t. He’d nearly died himself, after all… but was that intentional? It wasn’t often that an enemy survived after the thunderer struck them down. How much of that was due to the trickster’s luck and how much was something else?

   Then that sudden ache in his chest again: He’d tried to kill Thor. He’d  _wanted_  to kill him. Had the odds been in his favor instead, how would he have reacted? Loki didn’t know, and for Loki not to know was unbearable. There would have to be answers.

   As soon as they both were healed, answers  _would_  be given. He’d send for his prisoner again, unbound this time, no guards, no weapons—well, he couldn’t swear to that, but he wouldn’t bear one openly this time—and there would be  _answers_.

   If none came, he would encourage them. There were dozens of ways to free a man’s tongue, after all.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   Thor was not sure how long he'd simply sat and watched the steady rise and fall of his brother’s chest. His own limbs started to feel heavy at some point, the beating he had received from the guards yesterday, the lack of rest and the blood loss finally taking their toll on him. He fought to stay awake for he feared Loki’s wrath would be enormous once he woke, but in the end his fatigue won, and even though he did his best to fight it, sleep finally came.

   His dreams were restless but then again, they always were, nowadays. He usually dreamed of variations of the things that had happened or those he feared might still happen. Of death and pain and destruction and, amongst them all, his brother. 

   This time, his dreams were different. He still woke in his cell but it was empty. No blood on the floor, no daggers or broken chair. Thor was wearing one of his fine tunics, the one his mother always made him wear when they had visitors that the young god was not directly involved with but still needed to look  _proper_ for, in case they caught a glimpse of him in the hallways. It made Thor wonder, and he got up to search for Loki. (Even in his dreams, he was always looking for his brother, always searching, always seeking but never finding, not really.) The palace was brightly illuminated and filled with laughter, something he hadn't witnessed there in a very long time. 

   He found Loki this time, sitting in one of the apple trees on the palace grounds, munching one of the fruits and smirking down at him. “I had a weird dream,” Thor confessed to him when he jumped out of the tree. “You ruled Asgard. But not in a good way. We were not even real brothers anymore.” And the younger prince looked at him as if he were being ridiculous and smiled at him and —

   It was in that moment he realised it must be a dream. That or the slight shifting of the mattress that caused Thor to blink his eyes open. Ah, yes. Of course the Loki that smiled at him had been the dream, he thought as his eyes closed again. He could not even remember the last time his brother had smiled. Or him, for that matter.

   Half-awake, he watched the trickster stumble towards the door and leave, obviously still heavily injured. When it closed behind him with a dull sound, Thor let his eyes fall shut, clinging to the images of his dream a bit longer as he drifted off again.

   The sharp sound of the heavy door opening startled him awake after some time. He feared it might be his brother again, fully healed and ready to finish what he could not last time. Thor’s vision swam and his head pounded but he forced himself upright when he recognized two of the guards that entered. If Loki had decided to let someone else do the dirty work, he would make sure to fight as long as possible. Each cracked rib would be considered a success in this case. Despite the fuzziness in his head he couldn't help but wonder why Loki would send someone else to murder him. He would not miss this chance… would he?

   Would he?  Thor remembered their earlier fight and being offered the bracer to heal himself. He remembered the way Loki’s eyes had widened after he had slashed his chest open. At the time, he'd thought it was merely the disgust of Thor’s blood splashing everywhere but now he wasn't so sure.

   He should have shaken answers out of Loki when he'd still been half-conscious and his guard down. But Thor’s fear had been too great, his concern that the Jötun might die after all the only consideration. 

   After the guards one of the healers stepped into the room. Thor recognised her for he had often required her services after battle. She was a lot like his mother, a strong and determined woman who was not afraid to speak her mind. Now, her mouth was pressed into a thin line and he could not interpret the look she gave him when she approached. “Sit, Odinson,” she greeted him. “The king has sent me to attend to your wounds.”

   Her work was silent and efficient, the nasty cut closing under her skillful hands and the pain slowly ebbing away. Thor had always liked her because she was gentle but honest and to the point. She did not pamper her patients unnecessarily and did not hesitate to speak the truth, even if it was an uncomfortable one. The whole time, she was watching Thor with attentive eyes, eyes that did not speak of the hatred that he was so often faced with nowadays.

   “You should rest,” she said when she finally pulled back. The healer motioned for a guard to put a cup of strong-smelling liquid beside him. “Drink this. Then sleep. You will be fine soon.” Before she turned to leave, Thor grabbed her hand and turned her back towards him again. Catching her eyes he said: “I thank you, my lady.” And more quietly, he added: “Do I still have friends?” Because he needed to know. Loki was unpredictable and Thor did not dare to believe that this had been solely an act of kindness from his brother’s side.

   “There is no need to thank me, lord,” the healer answered politely. “More than you imagine,” she added quietly right before she turned to leave.

   Thor carefully kept his face blank until the guards had left. It was good to know, he thought. For what exactly, he was not entirely sure, but he knew that with his brother it was always better to plan for all possibilities. ( _Possibilities_ was a gross overstatement, however, for the thunderer knew that the only possible outcome for him was the one impossible thing for his brother: him forsaking the throne without being killed. Without being exiled, even, for Thor had no doubt he would not be able to bear his brother missing. It was like they were caught up in an endless cycle that neither of them could bear to break out of. Thor wondered whether   ~~when~~   it would end them.)

   He slept well that night and the most part of the following day. It was not until two days after that a guard came to him one morning with fresh clothes and announced the king wished to see him later. Thor sighed. That was it now, he guessed. He had tried to prepare himself for this moment over the past two days but it had been difficult, his thoughts too confusing and his feelings too mixed. Still, he stepped into the washroom to clean himself. When he was finished, he took a deep breath. Healed and clean, he looked like himself again, he thought. Like the person he was once, proud and brave and ready to do what needed to be done.

He told himself it would be sufficient for what was to come as he waited for the guards to lead him to his brother.


	9. Chapter 9

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   The trickster sat silently on a narrow wooden chair in the small, dark room below ground. There was nothing particularly frightening about the cramped stone-lined space, or nothing the shadows didn’t cover, at least. The only light cast was the dim flicker he had summoned in a circle around him. 

   The door was thick and solid, there were no windows, and the silence was an oppressive one that hummed in the ears like a swarm of flies. There was nothing to indicate that the room was anything more than a room, unless you had seen it before.

   Loki had.

   He sat in grim contemplation now, a part of him longing for the innocence of childhood, when he still had a brother, a home, a name; before he knew that those were all lies. When he trusted completely, as children do.

   And then another part looked at that longing with a seething disgust and itched to obliterate every trace of those things, to tear away his own emotions and simply exist as a   _thing_. A true monster, as pure and whole and empty as a shell. Something that could act without pain or remorse.   But the question came as it always did:  _Would Loki be Loki were he not so divided_?

   Increasingly since his victory he found that he wore black, the green there only in traces and trimmings. There was barely any green left now except for his eyes. Those would always be the color of sunlight on summer grass, but their owner was changed, and he was changed forever. Worse still, he knew it—knew and, in part, regretted. He felt the burden of his own  _wyrd_  heavily, though he didn’t yet understand it in full. He did know that havoc and bloodshed would travel in his wake, and that he would bring ruin to everything he had once loved.

   Even the proud, golden-haired man being brought in by the guards.

   This time when he entered, Loki stood. It was an old habit; Thor was firstborn, and his bearing showed exactly who and what he was: A noble warrior and prince of Asgard.

   Loki stood, but quickly turned away, examining his fingernails as the guards left. He looked as if he had barely slept or eaten, and as if he dragged the a heavy weight behind him.

   “I’ve brought no weapons,” he lied softly. “Only questions.” Steeling himself, he turned again to face Thor, for the first time since this all began, as an equal. The pair stood as mirror images of light and dark, forever trapped in a cycle that neither had the power to end.

   “You had the chance to finish this. You could have slain me as I slept—why didn’t you?” His tone was as silken as ever, but laced with caution. He couldn’t show how urgently he needed this answer, and so he hid all. Even his eyes were cold, their green darker and more toxic as the shadows behind threatened to swallow him whole.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   Much to his surprise, Thor was not led into Loki’s room or the throne room but down to the basements of Asgard. He wondered what Loki could possibly have planned there. The rooms there were dark and dingy, nothing he would like to stay in. But then again, if it was privacy his brother was seeking, this was the best choice. There would be no prying eyes, no servants, no windows or open doors. If he was quite honest, he was afraid of what was to come. He feared for them both, feared Loki’s revenge and his anger, both uncontrollable and dangerous things.

   He feared the things hidden in the shadows of Asgard’s dungeons. There was a reason some things were kept in the dark, literally in this case. Thor did not recognise the room he was brought to, he only knew it was one of the smaller ones but he could not say which purpose it served, whether it was a mere storage room or one of the remnants of Asgard’s dark past, filled with devices the Allfather had never spoken of. 

   The darkness in the room was suffocating. He could see no windows, the only light source was the spell Loki had obviously cast. But even that light was so low, Thor could not even see the walls of the room. He could hardly make out his brother’s dark figure in the blackness surrounding them.

   He was even more surprised when the guards left again, without forcing him onto his knees even. Loki rose and stood before him, looking him in the eye. It was a shadow of a past they once shared, in the days when they still regarded each other as equals. The memory echoed hollowly in his chest and it pained him. It made him wish for a past long gone and for a future unobtainable.

   Loki’s eyes were the only colour in the endless darkness around them and Thor’s gaze automatically locked onto them. He had always liked them, liked to see them glitter in delight or glee or mischief. Liked the way those eyes would search his to communicate silently. Understanding each other without words — this had been only one of the many small things that made him feel comfortable around his brother. 

   Now, he could read nothing in his their green depths and it was probably the worst about this situation. He had no idea what was to come or what Loki had planned. He did not know what lurked in the shadows around them and as much as he wished for this to have a different ending than what he suspected, he knew it would not be so.

   Still, stubbornly and desperately, he held onto the hope that he could change things, this time. It was both his greatest weakness and his strong point, he guessed.

   "Then ask, brother," Thor said as if he still had the authority to prevent Loki from taking what he wanted. He wanted to believe his brother was unarmed but he highly doubted that was actually the case. Even if he had no physical weapons there was still his brother’s magic. He carefully did not comment on it, even if the thought of showing appreciation to Loki for not threatening crossed his mind. But it was something he could not give his brother, he could not reach out to him this way when he could not even trust him anymore. Although he wanted, by the Norns, he wanted it so badly.

   Contrary to the Liesmith, Thor was actually unarmed, mostly. He had managed to slip one of Loki’s small knives into the sole of one boot before the guards had removed the weapons from his room. It would hardly save his life but it was a small consolation.

   Of course, the question posed was the one he liked least, the one he did not want to answer. How was he supposed to explain his complicated feelings to Loki? It was difficult enough to admit to himself that he still felt something for his brother and that it had been this which had held his hand back. But to admit it to  _him_? It would leave the thunder god more vulnerable than he wanted to be.

   And the same time, he wanted to say it. He wanted another chance, he wanted a change, he  _yearned_ for it. And it killed him.

   "I did not wish to slay you, brother," he answered slowly. "No matter what you have done and what sufferings you have caused. I do not wish you dead." This answer was obviously not unsatisfying but there was no other way to put it. The  _I still love you_ got stuck in his throat because he was not sure if he truly still loved Loki. He did not but when he thought about it, he did. 

   He did and he would never stop, he knew that. He despised Loki’s actions but he still loved Loki as who he was, dearly so. It was the memory of the brother he once had and he could not live without. 

   Everything. His hopes, his dreams, his desires and need. It was Loki, it had always been Loki.  


	10. Chapter 10

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   He saw the acceptance in Thor’s expression, and something that he would have guessed to be fear, though he had rarely seen it before. The larger, colder part of him delighted in that, while the small, weak part curled tightly around the pain of memory, clinging to it like a talisman:  _ **I’m not your brother. I never was.**_

 _That_   was the only truth that mattered to him now. He belonged nowhere and to no one, but he would not vanish—not even into the shadows that clung to him so easily. Instead he would burn, consume, destroy, and nothing could stop that. Certainly not the familiar oceanic blue of the eyes looking back at him now. Eyes that almost, almost seemed afraid of what they saw.

   Still, he accepted Thor’s approval to ask his question, just as he’d always done. As if everything hadn’t changed.

   While he awaited the answer, that pathetic little piece of him desperately hoped it would be one he could finally believe in.  _ **Can you not see me, brother? Drowning in my own hatred? In all the blood I’ve spilled? You always saved me before, why not now?**_

   Teeth clenched against those thoughts, he prepared to act regardless, knowing that even if he were saved, like the story of the scorpion who asked for help only to sting to death his rescuer, Loki could only act according to his nature.

   If he couldn’t be saved—and he knew that he couldn’t—he would bring Thor down with him.

   He stiffened at the words offered. They were inadequate to the question, they answered nothing, and the word 'brother' made him flinch even though it had been in his own mind only seconds before. And of course, there would be that reminder of all he’d done, his name forever linked to those deeds, confirming that he was seen only as a monster. As he would always be.

   Well then, so be it—if he was seen as such, he would act accordingly.

   “Lies.” he growled. “You’re no better than your father. You nearly killed me! If not for my foresight, you would have succeeded, yet you  _claim_   you never wished to see me dead?” Loki paced angrily, wheeling on Thor with eyes alight. “Did you fear retribution from those loyal to me? Or were you afraid—oh, after the fact, of course—afraid that your people would think ill of you? The peerless, golden son of Odin bloodying his hands?” 

   He laughed bitterly, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But why should they? You’d only be killing another  _monster_ , after all.” Loki spat the word in loathing, his gaunt face animated wildly by rage, and as he ranted the light around them brightened and spread, as though responding to his anger.

   Glimpses of machines fashioned from metal and wood were visible now, their surfaces worn by age and disuse except for a few that had been cleaned, repaired, and—judging by the stains—recently used.

   “I  _will_  know the reason why you spared me.” He promised in a low, deadly tone. It would destroy him, he knew, either literally as he burned through his own power in his exhausted state, or simply by ripping away whatever was left of the man he’d been. But the scorpion in the story condemned himself as well, and it was a fate the sorcerer had long since accepted. 

   Lifting one hand with palm bared, he lashed out with the first spell, meant to coil around Thor’s chest and stomach and tighten until he couldn’t breathe, effectively keeping him from attacking.

_**Please don’t make me do this.** _

   But the small, desperate voice of his own mind was silenced by grim necessity. He would do whatever he must to find the answers he sought, and to end his own pain forever, no matter what it took. He’d nearly escaped it before, but he’d misunderstood, then. Now, things seemed clearer and his willingness to go as far as he must was finally solidified. He’d had a dozen chances, but always stopped just shy of his goal. He’d never fully understood why, but the faint little voice inside him did. If only he could let himself hear it.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   Thor could see the moment he closed his mouth that Loki did not believe him. The calm and collected look on his face vanished within seconds and was replaced by the mindless anger Thor had become so used to seeing. “Loki —,” he began but there was no stopping his brother in his rage. His own guilt was adding to it for he did not know how he was supposed to explain to Loki why he acted the way he did. Thor was never one for clever words, that had always been his brother’s field of expertise.

   "It was not my intention to kill you, it was an accident!" he yelled, very nearly desperate. He did not know how to make his brother listen. He did not know how to quell the suffocating feeling of guilt in him. There was no excuse for what he had nearly done, not wanting it did not erase the blame.

   But many things had happened in the past that Thor had not wanted. Still, they had happened and he feared that in many cases, it had been his fault. He only wished Loki would see that he only wanted the best for his brother. He wanted to see him happy again but mostly, he wanted all of this to end because it was horrible. It was horrible and Thor could hardly bear the way they were slowly destroying each other. If Loki fell, he would not be the only one broken.

   It was one of the many reasons he could not kill his brother — besides whatever kind of love he still felt for him and the hope he still held, Thor knew that his brother’s death would be his own downfall. Loki was everything he thought about at the moment, he was his purpose… and his greatest hope. He hoped they would get through this, for both of their sakes.

   Yet every word stuck in his throat when Loki’s magic flared up and illuminated the room. The thunderer’s dread was justified — dark shapes of machines stood menacingly at the back of the room and left no doubt what Loki intended to do should Thor’s answers prove unsatisfactory.

   "I did not lie," he said hastily. "I was sinc—," Thor stopped and broke into a painful groan as the spell hit him. It felt like the breath was being pushed out of him, his whole chest aching in agonizing pain. He could barely breathe and sunk to his knees, struggling for air.

   "Please," he coughed as his eyes quickly filled with tears. "Please, brother." He could hardly think, his fingers digging into the dirty floor he crouched on and then clawing at his chest as if he could shake off the invisible bonds that held him. "Stop this," he begged, "please, you are better than that. I beli—" Another moan was ripped from his throat and Thor felt as if he was suffocating. "No monster," he croaked as he saw dark spots dancing before his eyes.

 _Please,_ he thought desperately,  _do not prove me wrong in this, I beg you._

   And then the pain was suddenly gone and Thor simply sagged forward onto the floor, half-conscious and panting violently. “I did not lie,” he repeated hoarsely and then pushed himself upwards on shaking arms. He would not give up on his brother, he  _could_ not. He needed Loki to understand that there was so much more to him than the monster he called himself, the monster his cruelties led everyone to believe he was.

   Loki might not even remember that side of him but Thor did. And he had caught a glimpse of it when Loki had lain on his bed, closer to death than life and looked upon him with eyes free of the dark shadows that clouded them now. When Loki let himself be touched and cared for, when he offered up his own health, urging Thor to take the magical bracer, when he left the room without killing him. This was who Loki truly was, he knew. Someone he could love and that could love in return. And Thor was determined to find this again, underneath all that hatred, there still was a heart. And he would not give up until he found the brother he had lost.  Even if it meant his own demise.


	11. Chapter 11

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   In his rage, Loki had misjudged the strength of the spell, and nearly drew back in horror as the initial wave of anger faded, leaving him to look on what he’d done. There seemed to be no serious damage, but he hadn’t meant to…

   It was necessary, though, wasn’t it? He couldn’t stop now. There had to be an end to this, even if it meant destroying them both.  Of course, the sly, selfish part of him refused to accept mutual destruction as the only option. He was Loki, and he would not countenance death as a possibility. Let  _Thor_  be the one to die—yes.

   But then again… no. What would Loki be, without Thor?

   This constant state of flux was maddening, and seeing the result of his magic, watching Thor slowly pull himself up again, he felt something more than anger, more than hate. He didn’t want to feel it; it was in the way of his every goal, and Loki backed away in confusion with one hand reaching blindly toward the wall. 

   Dimly, he remembered being cared for, being reassured that he wasn’t seen as a monster, but the words were hollow in his head as he also recalled the anger on Thor’s face when he’d struck. Even if it was followed by shock and bewilderment, or offset later by kind words, the image remained. Hated from without and within, that was what he was. He remembered a lifetime of small pains and petty slights, while Thor was praised and adored. When had Loki ever been more than the thin shadow of his brother? 

   His expression slowly hardened, eyes as cold and empty as glass. Reaching up, he tugged the bell-pull to signal the men outside that they were needed. Though he had no love for them personally, Loki was familiar with their work—they had been useful to him in the past, in this very room.

   He stood back silently as they struggled with the thunder god, leading him toward the spell-lit back of the small space... then turned, his grin skeletal and bleak as a thought occurred. It was an ironic one, and Loki had always appreciated irony. 

   "Wait," he called, something gleaming in one hand. "Hold him--I need his arm still." Carefully, he pushed the golden bracer over Thor's fist, noting with amusement just how small it looked on the Aesir's brawny arm rather than his own. With a nod, he gestured for them to continue and reclaimed his seat.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   Through the haze the pain had left in his mind Thor could see Loki hesitate. He wondered whether his words had reached his brother, whether they had finally made him re-think his decisions. There was no way their current course would end in anything but destruction; the trickster had to be aware of this.

 _He had to._ Thor’s mind raced when this realisation hit. Of course, he had to, his brother had always been the clever one, the careful planner and tactician. Long ago when he had still fought on Asgard’s side he was known for his meticulous plans as much as for his ruthless strategies. Loki always pursued some objective, Loki always gained in whatever bargain he made, Loki was never afraid to betray and trick and sacrifice to make sure he reached his intended goal.

 _What is it you are pursuing now, brother?_ Thor wondered as he looked up at him. The other’s slender form was tense, and seemed ready to crumble any second. Yet, his face was resolute and Thor knew there was no hope Loki was gong to spare him from whatever he had planned. If only he knew what his brother wished to hear from him, if only he knew how to stop Loki from drowning in his own hate. He brushed off Thor’s love and trust so easily as if he sensed that both of them were feeble emotions right now, only a weak echo of what Thor once felt when he had looked upon his brother.

   The thunderer knew what was going to happen when Loki rang the bell and he heard four pairs of steps behind him. His chest still ached and made it hard so to breathe that his pleas got stuck in his throat as the men grabbed him. His struggles were more a testament to his stubbornness than an expression of actual bodily strength. Thor felt as weak as an infant, faced with a situation he did not want and a problem he could not solve.

   In the end, the four men defeated him and held him down crouching like a dog before its master. He doubled his squirming and struggling when his brother approached him. Thor was not afraid of Loki, even now, but he was afraid of what Loki might do, that whatever cruelty his brother thought of for him might be Thor’s breaking point. It was a tempting thought, forsaking Loki, renouncing whatever bond they still had and ending this once and for all. But he knew the moment he gave in everything would be irrevocably lost. He needed to find a way, he needed to stop all of this before it was too late.

   Thought was hard to sustain as Thor was lifted onto one of the machines. The men tied his limbs to wooden bars, leaving him helpless and unable to move. His face burned in humiliation at being treated like this. He had no illusions that the bracer Loki had fastened around his wrist was for anything other than prolonging his torture. It was a bitter mockery that the very device Loki owed his life to was now assuring the punishment of the person who nearly killed him.

   The first blows were almost enough to make Thor pass out, one of the men raising his arm and crashing his fist down onto the thunderer’s chest. It knocked the breath right out of Thor who coughed and gagged, the bracer burning hotly around his wrist.

   The men obviously knew what they were doing, punching Thor hard enough to shoot agonizing pain throughout every part of his body that squirmed and twitched involuntarily in its bonds, leather straps biting into his flesh unforgivingly; yet the men never hit him hard enough to do severe damage. This was not about destruction, this was about  _hurt_. And it should last as long as possible, the magic bracer would make sure of that.

   Thor tasted blood in his mouth but he could not tell whether it came from biting into his tongue or whether it flowed down from his profusely bleeding nose.

   Yes, he desperately wanted to hate his brother now, he wished for nothing more than breaking his bonds and killing him right here, the thunderer’s anger an ugly thing that welled up in him and threatened to consume everything. It was the memory of Thor nearly slaying his brother that held him back, a memory he clung to like a life line. He needed to keep this in mind or he would lose himself in his anger. It was what made him turn his head towards his brother when one of the men fetched a thick strap of leather and brought it down across Thor’s flesh painfully. It burned along the thunderer’s chest, his thighs, the sensitive skin of his forearms.

   Loki sat in a chair and watched the men doing their work with a distant kind of look on his face. It both angered and relieved Thor to see no emotion on his brother’s face. There was no compassion… but there was no malicious joy either and it gave him enough hope to grit his teeth against the next blows.

   He could not give up, he told himself, not now, not after everything he had already suffered. But under the circumstances it was even harder to try to see things from Loki’s perspective than usual. His brother had always been a complex man, even before he had changed so much and Thor had never been one for thinking things through. He liked action, he liked solving his problems by the strength and brute force. But maybe, if he could only find the right words…

 _Breathe,_ He thought as his whole body shook from an especially nasty punch to the stomach. His lips were raw and bleeding from the bites he left to keep himself from crying out loud. Stubbornly, he kept his head turned to the side, his eyes fixed on his brother. Loki looked tired and worn, anemic and older than he truly was. It hurt to see him like this when Thor still distantly remembered the man he once was. He remembered eyes glinting in amusement and light smiles in the sunshine, his brother coming when Thor called, his brother a persistent presence at his side. And maybe, just maybe Loki could still remember that as well. Perhaps that was why he was still here, why he had not gotten rid of Thor like everything else of his past.

 _Loki’s objectives,_ he thought again. Loki wanted to he king. He was. Loki wanted revenge. He had it.

   Yet Loki was not happy.

   "Brother," Thor croaked, "brother." His words ended in a sharp hiss at another stroke of the leather strap. The pain was threatening to drive him mad but he needed to get this out now, he needed Loki to talk to him and to make him listen, to find out what it was that held his hand again and again. He could have killed Thor a hundred times by now, could have hurt him far greater than he did even now. It was like Loki was caught between two points, not yet past redemption but not ready to change his ways for the better, either. There might still be a chance to save Loki from drowning in the darkness that consumed his mind if Thor could make him take the hand he was reaching out to him, if only he could make him talk.

   "This will not work," he rasped with a broken voice. "You cannot force me to hate you, Loki. You know that."


	12. Chapter 12

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   Loki flinched with every hit, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair until the bones of his knuckles pressed against the skin in knots of white. For once, he had no clear plan—or at least none that he would let himself see fully yet. He was unraveling, his hold on everything slipping even as he assured himself he was still in control.

   How could Thor sleep when he could not? Why did the heavy, creeping guilt weigh  _him_  down but leave the thunder god untouched? Was it because he’d killed less, or simply because he’d killed in what he considered an “honorable” fashion?   
  
   But what was ever honorable about the house of Odin?  
  
   Still, as he heard the stifled sounds of pain and felt every blow as if it were him tied there. Loki wanted to stop it—to stop everything and beg for forgiveness, knowing even as he wished it that no one would forgive him now. No one would ever forgive him, now. Whatever was left of the boy he’d been, of the man he’d once believed he might be—no one could see it now, he assured himself. Not even Thor, no matter how much he claimed it was otherwise.

   Loki needed to believe that. He held onto that faith as tightly as he was able.

   But as those familiar blue eyes met the confusion of his green ones, as the words were uttered-- _You cannot force me to hate you_ \--his head jerked as if he'd been slapped. Narrowed eyes fixed on Thor's face, the pain in his chest a sharp, aching void where once there'd been life, laughter, hope, and love. Now there was only madness, spite, and a hatred so fierce he couldn't even see its object anymore. But here was the truth, spoken by the man he'd once called  _brother_.

   "Stop," he called, his voice emotionless. Standing, he walked to where Thor was tied. The men left, eyeing their lord warily as they went. He paid them no heed, attention focused only on that bloodied face.

   "Why would you not hate me?" He asked, every muscle taut with anger and burning from exhaustion. "After all I've done. After everything. Or are you still lying to me?" Although his voice carried a warning edge, even this felt empty to him.

   Loki's eyes shone fever-bright, barely focused, as if he were sleepwalking. "The entire house of Odin," he hissed, drawn face animated with the emotion that was visibly consuming him. "Liars and fools. You should have killed me when you had the chance."

   The anger seemed to rouse him from his fatigue and he moved swiftly, striking like a snake. One hand gripped Thor's hair, pulling to lift his head at an awkward angle. The other held one of his small blades gripped between two fingers. Teeth bared, he struck rapidly, stabbing in a quick series across the larger man's midsection.

   It cost him, that burst of rage. Panting, he let go of Thor's hair to reach up and press trembling fingers against the bracer. Every second of magic was another second of his life gone but he did it anyway, speeding the healing just enough to prevent serious injury.

   "I am a better king than your father was," he managed, catching his breath with difficulty. "A better king than you would have been. I gave the people  _truth_. It is an ugly truth-- _life_  is an ugly truth--but better that than a glittering lie. I would harden them to face any hardship, not coddle them until they weaken and falter even in battle, useless for any purpose."

   Even as he uttered the words, he doubted them. So many dead. So much harm done, and why?

   To prove he could never be forgiven. Half the nine realms loathed him; why not Thor? He had more right than any of them to hate Loki--even more than Loki hated himself.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   Thor was a tenacious person. It was one of the things that made him such a good fighter; even if the situation became difficult, he would not panic and would still continue on, no matter what happened. It was also what gave him the strength to endure this, to withstand each punch and whiplash for he knew he could not let Loki win in this. If Loki managed to break him there was no-one left to stand between his brother and the all-consuming madness that was slowly swallowing him.

   It was both a surprise and a blessing when Loki told the men to stop and sent them away. A small step but an important one, Thor thought. It meant that his words had gotten through, it meant there was still some part of his brother that cared about what Thor said, at least enough to hear the words.

   Thor closed his eyes for a brief second, allowing himself to catch his breath. The bracer around his wrist burned hotly but the wounds only closed slowly and left his whole body aching as it healed. He only opened his eyes again when he heard Loki approaching. His brother looked angry and so very weary and despite Thor’s limbs still being bound, despite the abuse he had just suffered, he could not help but feel sorry for him. He wished for nothing more than to reach out and calm him as if they were still godlings, as if they were still brothers who could find comfort in each other’s arms.

   Never had he wished more for one of the trickster's clever spells than now, for a spell which would allow his brother to simply look right into his head. How was Thor supposed to explain what he hardly understood himself? (Or, he thought he understood. But there was so much he would rather not admit, even to himself.)

   He waited for Loki’s wave of anger to pass, hoping some chance to speak and be heard might arrive — but the wrath did not lessen and maybe it had been foolish for Thor to hope that his brother would stick to harsh words when he'd brought him to this room. But the thunderer had never been able to lose hope in his brother and so he gritted his teeth against the hair pulling. His eyes only widened in panic when he noticed the dagger glinting in that pale hands, and then it was already too late. Before he could speak at all, Loki rammed the dagger into his flesh, stabbing his stomach.

   Hot pain exploded in his head as his whole body shifted against the bonds that held him but without avail. They would not break and Thor could not escape or fight back. His thoughts only cleared when he felt Loki touching the bracer with additional magic, a soft warmth filling him as the wounds healed slightly. It was enough to make sure Thor would not die or pass out from the injuries he had suffered but not enough to dampen the numbing pain he still felt.

   It was hard to concentrate like this but he knew he must. He'd managed through days of vicious battle, he could manage now. For his brother’s sake.

   "Yes," he rasped and broke into a wet cough before he could continue. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Yes, I believe you. You could be a good king, a great king even. It it not  _you_ I do not wish to see on Asgard’s throne, it is a  _tyrant_ I do not wish to see there. And right now, you are. You are building your power upon violence and threats. You cause so much misery.” He had to stop again as he coughed some more, each movement tearing at the wounds on his stomach and he could barely breathe with the pain this caused. But he had to get this out before Loki could interrupt him again and so he forced himself to continue. “A king should not lie to his people, I agree. But he is not supposed to… to teach them how to live. Everyone must make their own decisions and yes, life is not easy. But this is an experience everyone has to make on their own. A king must merely provide the opportunity and the safety for everyone to make their own decisions, not take away their freedom.”

   Thor had to pause after this and take a couple of steadying breaths. Thankfully, Loki did not lash out at him again and so when he opened his eyes, he searched for his brother’s gaze and held it with a stubborn determination that surprised even him.

   "No, I do not hate you. If you do not believe me look me in the eyes and see if you spot a lie there. We have spent centuries together and if you remember any of this, you know I never was a good liar." Thor pressed his eyes shut for a moment, the excruciating pain threatening to drag him into unconsciousness. "Because I do. Remember the centuries we spent together, I mean," he continued hoarsely. "And I remember everything you were and everything you  _could_ be and not only what you have become.” He chuckled humourlessly when he let his head sink back again, the weariness of his body finally taking its toll. “Tell me, do you still remember all the promises we made to each other back then? Because I meant it when I said I would not break them.”

   And he did not intend to. After all, what was Thor without Loki?


	13. Chapter 13

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   In all his long years of life, even through battles that had stretched on for days, Loki could not remember ever being as tired as he was now. Not just in body but in mind and spirit as well. He teetered on the edge of madness, and felt his feet slipping. 

   Could he stop this? Could he bring himself back from that bitter edge? He wanted to. Distant voices of memory called to him, and he wanted so badly to follow them; to believe that everything could still be the way it once was.  
  
   His cold veneer was cracking, and he stared at the small, silver blade in his hand as if he’d never seen it before.  
  
   But then there were Thor’s words, and a tremor of rage shook him at the condemnation, the insult, the  _audacity_  of them. His eyes glinted up madly from his bowed head, thin shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The sound finally escaped; a low, humorless rasp.  
  
   Of  _course_  Thor didn’t understand. He could never understand. Just like his people, the prince was spoiled and soft, content to live in the same world of shining falsehood as all the rest. Only Loki could see the truth of these things. The irony of that was not lost on him.  
  
 _‘Everyone should make their own decisions’_  
  
   But how could any decision be made correctly if it was based in mistruths? He had done the right thing, and he knew it. He’d done what someone should have done long before now.  
  
   He had done the right thing!  
  
                                                   But no.  
  
                                                                     He had…  
                                                                                             He had…  
  
 _What had he done?_  
  
   Shivering, he looked at Thor with wide, lost green eyes as his words sank in.  
  
 _’What am I?_  
 _My son.”_  
  
                                                                                   ( _Odin, what have I done? Am I still your son, or Laufey’s only? Am I a man or a monster?_ )  
  
   He was a child again, and his brother—older, stronger, always there to protect, advise, or jest—the most constant companion of an awkward, lonely boy who wanted only to be like him.  
  
   His brother.  
   His wounded, tortured brother.  
  
 _‘All I ever wanted was to be your equal!’_  
  
 

    He was so desperately tired that he doubted he could stay on his feet for much longer, but he must.  
  
   “It’s true,” he said softly. “You were never skilled in deceit.”  
  
   Loki remembered the things he’d stubbornly refused to. remembered, but more importantly heard and  _believed_. Thor did not hate him. Thor would never hate him.  
  
   And the trickster—the king of Asgard now—couldn’t bear to see himself reflected in his brother’s eyes, not with all the sins that weighed on his conscience now, and not with all that he knew he  _would_  do, no matter what he understood or believed in this moment.  
  
   The air was too thick to breathe, and his head swam with exhaustion. Thor wouldn’t break his promises, but Loki? Loki had broken them all.  
  
   He opened his hand and let the small, triangular blade clatter to the floor, his cold, blood-stained fingers brushing the hair back from the bound man’s face.  

 

**He loved him.**

   There had never been a time when he hadn’t, and even his hate was only love twisted inside out. It had become a mirror image just as Loki—being robbed of any hope that he might someday be like Thor—became his dark opposite instead. His shadow.  
  
   Catching the bruised, weary face between bone-white hands, he stared into those haunting blue eyes again. Dipping his head before he could rethink it, Loki kissed him—a long, searching kiss. The kiss of a lover. Under his breath, he made soft sounds of longing and despair. 

* * *

****↠[ **ᴛʜᴏʀ**](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com)** :**

   There was a long moment in which nothing happened, and the only sound in the room was Thor’s laboured breathing. Thankfully, the bracer on the thunderer’s wrist numbed the pain of his injuries a bit, although it only did so slowly. He could still faintly feel blood oozing out of the wounds and dribbling down the muscles of his abdomen.

   At first, he feared he had angered Loki once more. There was the unmistakable glint of pure fury in his brother’s eyes, it was the same look he had given Thor when he'd made the guards force him onto his knees before the so-called ‘king’, the same look Loki had given before attacking him in the prison days ago, the same look he'd had before he injured him here, while the thunderer was lying helpless and defenseless on the machine.

   Thor feared they were simply going to start this all again, this malignant circle of them hurt and hatred. He was afraid Loki would keep him here until he was all but dead, keeping him at the brink of entering Helheim with the magic of his bracer only to torture him further. Maybe Loki would have continued untile Thor hurt just as much as he did. The thunder god was no fool, he recognised the expression on the other’s face. He recognised it because it was the very one that had been on Thor’s face after he had nearly killed his younger sibling days ago.

   It was the one Loki’s anger bled into, the painful and desperate look of  _what have I done._  It was all regret and sorrow and never had Thor wanted to reach out more than now. But he was still bound to the machine and too weak to break the binds. Maybe it was for the best to leave Loki to his thoughts for now.

   Yet he could not help but worry. He knew all too well that even if Loki was thinking about the situation, even if he was considering Thor’s words, it did not mean that he necessarily agreed with them. And the Aesir was so, so tired of this, all of this. He wanted his brother back, he missed him so terribly. He simply wished for things to change, he was weary of fighting against the person he least wanted to. By destroying the other, they only ended up destroying themselves. Nothing good could come of this.

   And Thor saw the same tiredness reflected on Loki’s face, the sunken lines, the dead eyes and ashen skin. He did not know how long they would be able to do this. He did not know what would happen if he stopped fighting now (but he would not, he knew. Until his very last breath he would not because the one thing he could not do was let go of Loki).

   And then suddenly, his brother’s eyes were on him again and for the first time in a very long time they were devoid of hatred and madness. He looked incredibly tired but for once, he also looked calm. And he believed Thor. He believed him, he actually believed him. The thunderer found himself mouthing the word “brother” as Loki came closer, the dagger clattering to the floor beside him. In a distant sort of way he knew what would come but he could not suppress the surprised shiver than run through him when Loki touched his face with cool, blood-stained fingers.

   This was them breaking the vicious cycle that had held them captive for so long, this was them finally breaking out and doing what they should have done a long time ago. An attempt to fix things, a hope for a different future.

   So when Loki kissed him Thor arched up into the touch, pressing his lips against his brother’s hard and desperately. His arms strained against the binds which still held him as he yearned to wrap his arms around the other, to hold him so tightly he could not flee again. Instead he opened his lips a little to taste the keening sounds he made, pushing his tongue against Loki’s to make a claim, to make this real. This was no mistake, this was their reality now and Thor did not wish to for them to lose it again.


	14. Chapter 14

****↠**[ʟᴏᴋɪ](http://mageprinceloki.tumblr.com):**

   They had fought for too long.  _He_ had fought for too long, and for the first time since he’d taken Asgard for his own Loki felt a sense of calm, almost a feeling of peace—but not quite yet. Peace, for him, could come in only one way.

   Pulling back from the kiss was painful to the point of impossibility. It meant retreating from the very last comfort still left to him and the only being who unquestionably still loved him. It meant turning away from all warmth and hope to step out into the darkness alone.

   But where else did he belong?

   Still holding Thor’s face in one hand, Loki drew back and steeled himself. There was an ache in his throat that made it hard to swallow, hard even to breathe. Tears stood in his eyes and he blinked them away quickly, standing suddenly taller as he reached to touch the bracer again. 

   Energy poured into the metal, heating it intensely but repairing the damage done before it had even really started, and although it hurt him more than the mage-king had imagined or even feared, he only held more tightly, allowing the pain; welcoming it.

   Every wound would be mended, not just the recent ones but anything—everything—caused to the former prince by his incarceration. Loki poured what remained of his own life force into the spell-wrought gold until he felt ice creeping over his hands and down his face. Even the Aesir facade was failing. He would die looking like exactly what he was.

    _Good_ , he thought bitterly, pouring out the last of his energy. Letting go he stepped back, then stumbled and fell to his knees, dropping directly in front of the golden-haired god as if in some cosmic act of irony.

   Holding himself barely upright with one trembling arm, Loki raised his head slowly, azure skin writ with scars and red eyes meeting blue in a moment of wild, half-mad determination as he waved his other hand, using his last flicker of magic to open the restraints and set him free.

   “Take the knife,” he rasped, turning his face away to hide the pain. “Destroy me, or I’ll destroy everything you love.” 

   And everything that  _he_  loved in the process, Loki now realized. There was only one way he could be sure, only one way to protect Thor, and he was finally ready to take that chance while he still could. Before his broken, quicksilver mind found some means of saving itself again.

* * *

**↠[ᴛʜᴏʀ](http://big-brother-thor.tumblr.com):**

   When Loki ended the kiss, he could only wait for what his brother would do next. He was prepared for everything – another fit of anger, denial, the trickster fleeing or calling back the guards from before – but he was not prepared for the open display of raw emotion on the other’s face. It always caught Thor off guard when he saw that Loki still possessed sentiment as he was too used to seeing his brother’s cold mask of cruelty. It filled him with such complex emotions to see that his brother, the one he grew up with, the one he missed more than anything, was still buried somewhere underneath all that pain and hatred. And he longed for him so badly. In moments like these it seemed as if he could finally show Loki a way out of this vicious cycle but the moments never lasted long enough for Thor to grasp them.

   Even now there was nothing he could do, sharp pain fogging his mind and the binds still restraining each of his motions. He could only lie there and wait until the other made up his mind. Thor followed the movements of his brother’s hand as they reached for the bracer again. All words of protest died in his throat as the metal heated under Loki’s touch, magic filling every fibre of the thunderer’s body. He arched his back involuntarily as the energy filled him. It was no painful sensation but an intense one, impossibly hot as power flooded his veins. Light exploded before his eyes as all pain he felt was washed away.

   His body slipped down the machine but he landed on feet strengthened by the magic Loki had pumped into him. His head felt light, a slight euphoria filling him at the sheer power that ran through him. It took him a moment to notice the trembling form on the floor next to him and to process his weak words.

   His brother was in his Jötun form, a testament to just how much magic he had used. The thunderer cursed his brother for this. Trust him to go from one extreme to the other and still not understand a thing.

   The dagger Loki spoke of lay next to him on the machine, its silver blade glinting in the low light. It spoke whispers of a safer future – of a brighter one for Asgard. Thor could end it now and the realm would be the better for it. He could become king and end this tyranny. The other realms would benefit as well, for Thor would work to maintain the peace between them. At last, he had the chance to end his suffering once and for all, cut the bond to the one person who caused him the most pain, who was a greater danger to him than anyone else had ever been. And he would be able to do it while granting Loki his last wish and finally end his brother’s suffering, too. And maybe the trickster would die in the knowledge that he belonged somewhere; belonged at his brother’s side. Maybe he would finally know that there never was a love deeper or more vicious that the one Thor held for him.

   He reached for the dagger and then sunk to the floor in front of Loki, pulling him up by the arm and supporting his weight so that he could meet his gaze. The deep, crimson eyes blinking back at him were unfamiliar, and Thor would have expected this to hurt more, would have expected him to miss his brother in these last moments. At the very least, he thought seeing a Jötun before him would make the task easier. It did not. All he saw was Loki, no-one but Loki, always his little brother and never the monster that everyone else seemed to see. It was both his greatest blessing and his biggest curse.

   The blue of Loki’s skin was reflected in the dagger’s surface as Thor held it to his throat. There were no words between them as they stared at it each other unwaveringly. Loki looked at him as if he were waiting for an answer and the thunder god wondered why for his answer was obvious.

   He withdrew the dagger from Loki's throat and instead reached for one of his hands. Cradling it in his own, he sliced open his brother’s palm and then moved to cut open his own. Blood dripped from the nasty gash, staining the floor with spots of deep red. He flung the dagger into a dark corner and reached to tangle their hands, pressing the wounds together until their blood mingled. It was a gesture so old Thor wondered whether Loki still remembered it. It had been a day in summer centuries ago, when the differences between them had become more clear. Thor’s friends had picked on Loki for one reason or another, pointing out how impossible it was that they were real brothers for they were nothing alike. These words were even more bitter in retrospect but even then they had hurt the younger deeply. Hours later, when Thor had finally found him hiding under a tree, the thunderer had sliced open their palms with shaking hands, feeling slightly nauseous at the sight of their blood but determined enough to keep going. When they had pressed their hands together Thor had sworn, he would never forsake his brother, that he would always love him and protect him from whatever evil may befall him.

Yes, Thor’s answer was obvious.

It had always been.


End file.
